03.07.08 From the Viking
Raising The Bar: The Worst Bars In America, Part 1
There are a lot of awful bars in America. Here is one of them. This is the first part in a many part series. If you have a suggestion for the worst bar series, please email them to me at lukaskaiser AT gmail.com. Booya.

New York is a huge city. It's got a lot of great shit in it... like awesome food, hilarious weirdos on the subway and giant monster Rat Kings.
Since it's so big, it's inevitable that it's also got a lot of shitty shit in it... like pretentious, self serious richie riches and their fugly whore girlfriends. These cock faced anus ninjas and their disease-ridden prostitutes are a plague on NYC. They are beastly killer bee-like creatures who have descended to New York from their hives of Jersey and LA (and any "scenester" enclave in-between) and they descend upon good, valuable, fun parts of town and transform them into puss-filled sores that infect women and children with scary diseases.
They also open annoying, shitty bars. The Delancey is one of these bars. Yick.
The Delancey's main problem is that it doesn't know what it wants to be. It's a three storied space with a velvet rope and bouncer standing outside the front door, so at first you think, ah, it's a club. But the three floors are all pretty small, there's no dance music playing and it's almost always empty. So it's not a club. It's just a shitty bar that has the fucking balls to charge a cover.
The identity crisis doesn't end there. The place is, like I said, pretty small. It's an average sized New York bar, with a counter and a few benches scattered around. But for some reason, they take reservations. So if you wander into the completely empty space on, say, Saturday at around 10 PM, don't expect to be able to sit down... the four benches and the entire upstairs and downstairs are "reserved." For whom? What loser is reserving a bench in a douchey bar that's next to a McDonalds and two blocks from a somewhat sketchy hispanic housing project?
If you decide you're okay with standing and enter the bar anyways, you're still going to be greeted with fantastic annoyances. For one, when you ask "What's on tap?" be prepared to be answered with an eye roll. There IS nothing on tap. Great. And, since there are no beer or drink menus around, when you inevitably ask "What beers DO you have?" expect more attitude. When I was there last, the hag demon weasel bar tendress simply POINTED at the bottles of beer behind her when I asked that. Bitch, that's like 20 feet away from me and your "mood lighting" is set on "midnight." So I had to put her in her "you work in one of the worst bars in America" place: "I'm sorry, you're gonna have to read off the entire list of drinks for me. Thanks."
She rattled off a list of domestic crap that any college bar would have and I stopped her when she got to Red Stripe, the BEST beer in their selection (psshaw). "I'll have a Red Stripe, thanks."
"That'll be six fifty." You whore. I better get a hand job with that.
Thanks to the bars vicious combination of an identity crisis, no beers on tap and a staff with both severe attitude problems and severe mental retardation, The Delancey finds its way onto our list of the WORST BARS IN AMERICA!
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I'm gonna be using that phrase all day at work. I hate it when you ask "what kind of beer do you have" at a bar and they give you attitude and point to some beer bottles, hiding in the shadows where there is no light.
Also If a bar is next to McDonalds, it automatically sucks Ronald McDonald's tube steak.
The tour bus traveling through northern Nevada passed briefly at the Mustang Ranch, near Sparks. The guide noted: "We are now passing the largest house of prostitution in America." A male passenger shouted "WHY?!?"
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rat_king
"Now really," the mother says, "these are personal questions and are really none of your business." Undaunted, the little girl asks, "Why did you and daddy get a divorce?"
"That is enough questions, honestly!" The exasperated mother walks away as the two friends begin to play.
"My Mom wouldn't tell me anything," the little girl says to her friend. "Well," said the friend, "all you need to do is look at her driver's license. It is like a report card, it has everything on it." Later that night the little girl says to her mother, "I know how old you are, you are 32." The mother is surprised and asks, "How did you find that out?"
"I also know that you weigh 140 pounds." The mother is past surprise and shock now. "How in heavens name did you find that out?" The little girl continues on triumphantly, "And... I know why you and daddy got divorce."
"Oh really?", the mother asks, "Why is that?" To which the girl replies, "Because you got an F in sex."
A trucker goes into a whorehouse and hands the Madam five hundred dollars. He says, "I want your ugliest woman and a bologna sandwich." The Madam says, "For that kind of money, you could have one of my finest girls and surf and turf." The trucker says, "I ain't horny, I'm homesick."
Where everybody knows your name
And they're always glad you came
You want to be where you can see
Our troubles are all the same
You want to be where everybody knows your name
Doctor: "Tell me about your problem."
Patient: "I just did, you fucking jackass!"
dooby, I want bigger boobies." A guy sitting nearby asked her, "Do you go to Dr. Smith by any chance?" "Why yes, I do. How did you know?" The man stood up and cupped his balls and said, "Hickory dickory dock..."
Darren marries this girl, and they go on their honeymoon. He leaves the room the first night to go down to the lobby to get a pack of cigarettes. When he gets back, his bride is lying on the bed naked fucking one of the bellhops. Another one is under her, getting her in the ass. She's sucking off the desk clerk, and she's jerking off a cab driver and the dishwasher. Darren screams, "What the fuck are all these jerk-offs doing in here?" She says, "Well, you always knew I was a flirt."
Well the Roadway driver drives for about an hour and finally sees another truck. He gets on the CB and says "Hey other truck, do you know who the two biggest fags in the world are?" The other trucker says, "I don't know, who?" The roadway driver replies "Me and my brother."
She lives for ten more years, and then dies. Once again, a ceremony is held, and at the end of it, the pall bearers are again carrying out the casket. As they carry the casket towards the door, the husband cries out: "Watch that fucking wall!"
The woman replies, "I'm a high-priced whore." The accountant balks and says, "No, no, no. That will never work. That is much too crass. Let's try to rephrase that." The woman says, "OK, I'm a high-end call girl!"
"No, that is still too crude. Try again." They both think for a minute, then the woman states, "I'm an elite chicken farmer." The accountant asks, "What does chicken farming have to do with being a whore or a call girl?" "Well, I raised over 5,000 little peckers last year."
"Who?" asked the man. "Bill Smith. There's a guy who did everything right," the cabby said. "Like my coming along when you needed a cab. It would have happened like that to Bill every time."
"Nah," the man said to the cabby. "There are always a few clouds over everybody."
"Not Bill," said the cabby. "He was a terrific athlete. He could have gone on the pro tour in tennis. He could golf with the pros. He sang like an opera baritone and danced like a Broadway star."
"Bill was really something, huh?"
"Oh, yeah," continued the cabby. "Bill had a memory like a trap. Could remember everybody's birthday. He knew all about wine, which fork to eat with. He could fix anything. Not like me. I change a fuse, and the whole neighborhood blacks out."
"No wonder you remember him," the man said. "Well, I never actually met Bill," said the cabby. "Then how in the world do you know so much about him?" "I married his widow," replied the cabby.
When he was done, the gorilla threw the gay man back out of the cage. An ambulance was called and the man was taken away to the hospital. The next day his friend visits him in the hospital and asked, "Are you hurt?" "AM I HURT?" he shouted, "Wouldn't you be? That big ape hasn't called, he hasn't written..."
After traveling for a while, they get pulled over by a State Trooper. She rolls down her window and the cop says "I need to see your drivers license and vehicle registration please." The woman turns to her husband and shouts "WHAT DID HE SAY?" The husband replies, "HE WANTS YOUR LICENSE AND REGISTRATION!"
The woman gives the documents to the officer and after studying her license the cop says, "Oh, you're from Chicago. I've been there. Actually, the worse piece of ass I ever had was in Chicago!" The woman turns to her husband and shouts "WHAT DID HE SAY?"
And the husband replies, "HE SAYS HE KNOWS YOU!"
His mother told him, "It's called kissing and any boy who does that to a girl will die that very minute!" On his 21st birthday he went out with some friends who introduced him to one of the sweetest girls around town. She knew that he had never been kissed before. When she eventually got some time alone with him, she tried to kiss him but he resisted. She asked him, "What are you afraid of, it won't hurt." He said, "My mother said if I kiss a girl I'll die this very minute!!" She replied, "Don't be a baby, now come on kiss me." With that she gave him a hot one square across the lips. He began to cry, "Oh no I'm going to die!!!" She said, "Why are you going to die??" He replied, "I've just kissed you and already one part of me has begun to get stiff!!"
The second says "I like to look at a woman's ass." He asks the third guy "What about you?". "Me? I prefer to see the top of her head."
"My goodness, that sure is a lotta money!" Mary Louise exclaimed. She then proceeded to describe the hinge that Bubba had sent her to buy, and Jo Bob went to the backroom to find a hinge. From the backroom Joe Bob yelled "Mary Louise, you wanna screw for that hinge?' To which Mary Louise replied, "No, but I will for the teapot."
"Sure," they said, "You're welcome." So they started playing and enjoyed the game and the company of the newcomer. Part way around the course, one of the friends asked the newcomer, "What do you do for a living?"
"I'm a hit man," was the reply.
"You're joking!" was the response.
"No, I'm not," he said, reaching into his golf bag, and pulling out a beautiful Martini sniper's rifle with a large telescopic sight. "Here are my tools."
"That's a beautiful telescopic sight," said the other friend, "Can I take a look? I think I might be able to see my house from here." So he picked up the rifle and looked through the sight in the direction of his house. "Yeah, I can see my house all right. This sight is fantastic. I can see right in the window. Wow, I can see my wife in the bedroom. Ha Ha, I can see she's naked! What's that? Wait a minute, that's my neighbor in there with her. He's naked as well! The bitch!" He turned to the hit man, "How much do you charge for a hit?"
"I do a flat rate, for you, one thousand dollars every time I pull the trigger."
"Can you do two for me now?"
"Sure, what do you want?"
"First, shoot my wife, she's always been mouthy, so shoot her in the mouth. Then the neighbor, he's a mate of mine, a bit of a lad, so just shoot his dick off to teach him a lesson."
The hit man took the rifle and took aim, standing perfectly still for a few minutes. "Are you going to do it or not?" said the friend impatiently. "Just wait a moment, be patient," said the hit man calmly, "I think I can save you a thousand dollars here....."
I go to bars to get fucked up, I don't give a fuck about all that other shit.
Whats the deal with all the jokes, I think joe has the wrong site.
You fuckers should check out a couple of other booze sites.
TastyBooze.com and ModernDrunkardMagazine.com they are both cool sites.
PEACE BRO'S
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